


Rose's First Birthday

by magnoliatattoo (theladyinthecape)



Series: Marital Bliss [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Birthday Party, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyinthecape/pseuds/magnoliatattoo
Summary: Stitcheskitty prompted a first birthday, and without further delay (sorry for that)... here it is!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the rating change. It wouldn't be Rumbelle without a little smut, right?
> 
> Thank you to MarieQuiteContrarie for being an incredible beta and friend. xoxo

Rumplestiltskin woke to the sensation of ice-cold fingers wrapping around his waist. The chilly hands splayed across his nude belly, and he opened his eyes as he felt the bed shift behind him. His wife had curled up against his back, (Belle was always cold during the night), and in her sleepy confusion she had sought out his heat.

 

Covering her hand with his own, he allowed his mind to come to full awareness as he stroked her fingers. The sun had begun to rise, and a faint blue light seeped through the drapes of their master bedroom.

 

Their room. It had been a year since Belle had come back to him, she and Rose, bringing love and happiness back into his life. Before their return, how many solitary nights had he lain in this bed, mourning his broken heart? How many mornings had he watched the sun rise with no intention of doing the same, for he could not bear to face another day without her?

 

Their room. It was theirs now, Belle had moved back into the large house after Rose’s birth. He smiled as the morning light brightened the room enough to see Belle’s shoes kicked under the rocking chair, a burp cloth and rattle laying on the dresser, ready for their girl at a moment’s notice

 

Pulled from his thoughts, Rumplestiltskin flexed involuntarily. His wife’s hand had crept down his lower belly and now was massaging his hip and upper thigh. Her fingers, now warm, brushed over his thickening member, a tease and a question answered with a twitch and swell and shunt of his hips. Belle peppered light kisses across his upper back, and her soft hands moved lower, cupping his scrotum and rubbing the base of his dick with her palm.

 

Rumple rolled onto his back and watched his wife with hooded eyes. Her own eyes were still closed, and she nuzzled into his side. He draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to rest her head on his chest as she continued her ministrations. His hand wandered down her hip, finding that soft spot where her thighs met her rump, and dipped his finger into her rear slit. She was wet—very wet--and the discovery hardening him further. He stroked up her ass, following the firm roundness of her hip up to her waist, as he pushed lightly to encourage her to straddle him.

 

Belle slid one leg over his thighs and pulled herself to a seated position, finally opening her eyes as her small hand, fingers ablaze, continued to pump his cock. Her hair was mussed and tangled, wild around her pale face, framing her lazy smile.

 

“Good morning, husband.”

 

“Indeed,” Rumplestiltskin breathed, watching Belle stroke him through heavy lidded eyes. He placed his hands on her hips, lifting her up slightly, and Belle dipped his cock back to rub against her slit. Stroking him against her slippery labia, she coated him in her arousal before slowly lowering herself down his shaft, allowing him to feel every inch of her velvety wetness as he stretched into her.

 

“Mmmmmm,” Belle moaned as she began to rock gently on top of her husband. He filled her completely, stretched her, especially when she was on top. It was just on the pleasurable side of pain, and she bent forward to gain a bit more leverage, placing her hands on his chest, feeling his hard pectoral muscles support her slight weight as she began to ride him with purpose.

Belle’s mouth fell open, and her eyes closed as she set the pace. Quick, short thrusts were bringing her to the edge, and she would slow down periodically to prolong her pleasure. Rumple was beginning to sweat from the heat of their activity and the effort of holding off his orgasm. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, he brought his thumb to where they were joined, finding Belle’s clit with ease, having mapped every inch of her body over the past year. He rubbed lightly, reveling in the small cries that had begun to escape her lips.

 

“Yes, yes, Rumple, yessss…..” Belle chanted as she rode him faster, harder, and his thumb applied more pressure.

 

“Come for me, Belle,” he pleaded, his brogue thick with want, and as he did he felt her inner walls clamp around him, her thrusting hips stilled, immobilized by her orgasm. She cried out as he pinched her clit, finishing her off, and she opened her eyes wide as she came down from her high.

 

At that moment, the early morning calm was pierced by the high pitched squeal of a toddler.

 

“Mama! Mama! Mamaaaaaaaaa!” Rose shouted from her crib, and Belle could hear the thump-thump-thump of the crib as Rose tried to shake herself free from her bed.

 

“Oh, she’s awake!” Belle exclaimed, climbing off her still quite unsatisfied husband.

 

“Belle, she can wait, please!” Rumple protested in frustration, but he knew it was futile, and he didn’t really fault Belle. He was just…so close….

 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Belle said, hurrying to don her panties and a robe. “I’ll make it up to you, later.”

 

She planted a kiss to his forehead before leaving, rushing to get Rose out of bed and ready for breakfast. “It’s a big day!” she called over her shoulder, excitement in her voice, as she went to their daughter.

 

“Yeah,” he grumbled, and rose from the bed. He looked down at his glistening, bobbing cock. It jutted proudly, patiently waiting for its release. Rumple sighed and shuffled to the shower.

 

~~~~~

 

“Dadadadada.” Rose chanted and giggled as Rumple promenaded her around the dining room, holding her in the crook of his right arm as he pointed out the decorations Belle had hung the night before.

 

Princesses, unicorns, and fairies adorned the usually stately formal dining room, as well as a three-tiered cake, decorated in pink fondant with purple candy ribbons and silver sugar non-pariels. The cake was topped with a small tiara forged from platinum and diamonds.

 

The tiara had been Belle’s as a child, and was a gift to Rose from her maternal grandfather. Moe French had been reluctant to accept his daughter’s commitment to her new family, thinking that a life without a father would have been far safer than a life with the Dark One. But Belle was stubborn, and had finally convinced Moe that a life with both parents was best. Her emotional pleas for him to be a part of his granddaughter’s life had broken the wall that had existed since Colette had died, and he relented, gifting Rose the tiara as a peace offering. Rose had yet to see the jeweled crown, and Belle had waited to give it to her until today, wanting to crown her princess with all the pomp and circumstance this realm had to offer.

 

“Pret-ty!” Rose exclaimed as Rumple pointed to the tiara, her blue eyes, so like her mother’s, sparkling in the light of the room.

 

“Yes,” Rumple agreed, kissing his daughter’s plump cheek and nuzzling her soft hair. “Pretty like Rose,” he continued, beaming at his child as she laid her head on his shoulder.

 

Rose was certainly growing to be a daddy’s girl. Her tiny, heart-shaped face fit perfectly in the crook of his neck and shoulder, and he would carry her around all day if he could, just as he was right now. Every evening she would settle in his lap as he rocked her to sleep. Rumple and Belle had found early on that he was much more effective in getting Rose to sleep, his warm, deep voice soothing her cries and whimpers, his long fingers stroking her back as he held her lulled her to sleep without fail.

 

Yes, she had her father, the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms, wrapped around each one of her tiny, plump fingers.

 

As they wandered through the house, waiting for Belle to make the final preparations and the first guests to arrive, Rumple tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat that had formed. He was overcome with emotion. The past year had flown by in a flurry of diapers, feedings, teething and bottles. Not to mention joy and happiness and family. Each time he thought of how the gods had blessed him he would grow nervous, waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop. But he refused to give into the Darkness that tempted him from appreciating his life for all that it was. It was his happy ending, and he refused to lose it; refused to risk everything he had, for he knew all too well how easily it could be ripped from him.

 

The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts, and he heard the clack of Belle’s heels as she went to greet the first guests. Today was a happy day, he reminded himself, pushing the Darkness back to the corners of his soul. There it was destined to remain for eternity, relinquishing control to the light that had taken hold in Rumplestiltskin.

~~~~~

 

“...Happy Birthday, dear Rose, Happy Birthday to you…”

 

Rose was startled by the round of applause she received after the group finished singing, but began to clap and laugh along with them, enjoying every moment of the party.

 

A crowd had gathered at the Golds’ home, the Charmings with baby Neal, who was toddling around and trying to open all the gifts himself; Emma and Regina had been the first to arrive, Henry and Robyn (as it was Regina’s weekend, having shared custody of the child) with them. Granny had arrived late, bearing a gift as big as Rose herself, wrapped too poorly to properly disguise Rose’s first bow and arrow set.

 

Belle bent beside Rose, their faces even with each other’s, and the similarities between mother and daughter were striking. Rose had her mother’s face, her clear, bright blue eyes and pursed, full lips. Her hair, though, was her father’s, sandy brown and straight, and having grown to chin length already. She was an angel, a happy child, as delicate and strong as the flower she was named for.

 

“Okay, Rosie,” Belle told to her daughter. “On the count of three, let’s blow out your candle!”

 

The crowd chanted, “1,2,3!” and Belle went to blow the candle, Rose not quite old enough to grasp her duties as the birthday girl. The flame flickered and died, and another cheer rose from the audience. Rose didn’t join in this time, but looked at her mother in confusion as the smoke began to rise from the single extinguished candle.

 

“Good job, honey,” Belle chuckled as she explained to Rose, “that means your wish will come true!”

 

Rose’s brow furrowed in exactly the same way her father’s did when presented with an obstacle.

 

“Oh honey,” Belle smiled and ruffled her hair. “That’s what is supposed to happen!”

 

Belle moved to take the candle from the smash cake on the small table attached to Rose’s highchair when Rose slammed her fist down.

 

As she did, the candle relit to full flame.

 

“You bought trick candles for a one year old, sister?” Leroy peeked over Belle’s shoulder, his gruff voice causing Belle to step back and glare at him.

 

“No, of course not. Rumple,” she scanned the crowd for her husband, who stood to the side, snapping pictures with his phone.

 

“Don’t look at me,” he said, casting an accusatory glance in Regina’s direction.

 

“What, do you think I’m using magic to trick your daughter?” Regina huffed. “Gold, if I wanted to get under your skin…trust me, I wouldn’t use your daughter to do it.” She smirked as the double entendre sank into the collective minds of the crowd. Emma rolled her eyes as others groaned.

 

“Look, maybe there was just enough heat to relight it on its own,” Belle reasoned, refocusing on getting Rose to take a bite of the top tier of the cake, made just for her, showing her how to dig into with her chubby hands and enjoy like a toddler should.

 

She blew out the candle once more and tied a bib loosely around Rose’s neck, when Rose brought her fist down again.

 

Once more, the candle sparked back to life.

 

A hush fell over the crowd as everyone realized what was happening.

 

Rose’s giggles broke the heavy silence. “Pret-ty!” she exclaimed, looking up to her mother expectantly, waiting for her praise for bringing the candle back to life.

 

Rumple cleared his throat as he walked over to join his wife and child. Belle’s face paled, the knowledge that her child carried magic turning her stomach, and she gripped the back of the chair to steady herself.

 

Rumple doused the flame with his fingertips and smiled at Rose.

 

“Do it again, honey,” he said, cautiously, needing to know for sure.

 

Smiling at her father, she brought her fist down once more to the highchair’s shelf table, and as she did, Rumple studied the tiny, bright, yellow spark leaping from her chubby fist to the wick of the candle.

 

“It’s light magic,” he said, relief evident in his voice, rising up to his feet. “Belle. It’s light magic.”

 

He wrapped one arm around his wife, hugging her close to his chest, knowing that even if their child’s magic was light and pure, that it would be a burden to little Rose until she learned how to use it.

 

Belle looked up and smiled at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

 

“I should have expected this. She’s your daughter,” Belle said, scanning the room. The crowd of guests looked uncomfortable, knowing they had witnessed a poignant and private family moment.

 

“She’s also the product of True Love,” Emma offered, softly, and Belle smiled as she remembered her husband’s sage words. There’s no greater magic than that of true love.

 

“She is. She is our True Love,” Belle agreed, looking up to Rumple. “And in this realm, True Love conquers all."


End file.
